Ever found yourself wishing you had asked the deeper questions of life from someone you admired? Someone you held so much love for, but the time or opportunity ran out? Have you often found yourself living out the legacy of that person, long after they departed the earth, trying to remember the stories, the principles by which they lived, because within their life was a depth of understanding that is nearby impossible to replicate? The Legacy Letters is a prompted journal, a volume that requires the receiver of the book to fill in the pages with their own wisdom. In an attempt to connect our personal sages to the youth of tomorrow, Carrie Lloyd wrote down the questions she asked her mother in a blank, leather-bound journal five years ago. Within the pages were stories she never knew of her family, adversities she could not have discovered just by living within the family home, and historical references that could have been missed had intentional questions not been asked. The Legacy Letters seeks to go deeper into the very motivations and makings of those who inspire us, and upon the pages being filled by the sages themselves, we have, through a vulnerable exposition of both the writer and the reader, the powerful findings of life itself, engraved into the page by their own ink. From childhood findings to the darkest hours of adversity, how did those who inspire us become so iconic to us? Whether they be a parent, a teacher, a mentor or a spiritual mentor, whoever they are to us, they hold up a baton of hope that we mustn’t miss in passing, but wait upon the starting line, ready to take our turn, carrying out their wisdom of yesteryear. Carrie Lloyd ============ Carrie Lloyd is the host of ‘The Carrie On…podcast’, journalist, Patreon writer and life guide, specialising in authenticity, character and therefore, love. She is the author of three books: The Noble Renaissance (Harper Collins), The Virgin Monologues, and Prude. Carrie resides between her homes in California and Lincolnshire, England.  A few years ago I gave my mother a personalized leather-bound notebook for her birthday. This wasn’t just a blank notebook, this was a book in which I wanted her to fill the pages about her life, her thoughts, her motivations, her principles, her favorite memories. I gave her themes, sections, questions and musings to ponder on. They were the questions I wish I had asked my father before he died. Since she received this book, the pages have been filled with her favorite recipes, sketches, photographs of the old air raid shelter she and her brother played in just after the war. It has that fruit cake recipe whereby the entire thing is devoured by the afternoon. I discovered that my father had been engaged before my mother, but despite her dashing looks, he didn’t engage in conversation like he did with Mum that one time in the college canteen. I learned more about my mother in the pages of this book than I had in 40 years of my life with her. It seems that whether it is our parents or someone that holds a significant influence and inspiration over us, we deem them to be invincible, we think we’ll learn such information through osmosis, and forget to ask the questions. Perhaps we mean to dig deeper and seek to go back in history with those we love, but we leave it a little too late, when the memories have faded, when they don’t remember the details anymore. The digital age spoon feeds us information that makes us believe we are beyond teachable from our ancestors, that we can learn all there is to know from a TikTok video. It ignores the understanding that every person has their own unique story, their own set of principles that could be gifts for those who are watching close by. Our own roots and influences become far more compelling when we ask intimate questions of those who raised us, those who guided us. They are in our lives for a reason. They were there for us to learn from. And as I turn forty, I’m aware that if we are not careful, we could miss the very gift that was intended for us and us alone – their legacy.